Blessed are the Forgetful
by orange-sunshiine
Summary: Tig gets hurt and loses much of his memory. The rest of the club has to protect him from the 9'ers and Damon Pope, who are out for retaliation after the death of his daughter. Set right after Season 4 but before the first episode of Season 5.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I wrote something kind of similar for another fandom and decided to try it in this one but with a few tweaks. Hope you like it. I have some medical knowledge but tried my best to research what I didn't know. If I'm totally off about something, let me know and I'll try to edit it to be correct.

Ch. 1

If there was one thing that all of the members of the Sons of Anarchy had in common, it was that they all faced constant danger. There was the obvious threat of falling off of a bike or getting into an accident, and then there was the threat of retaliation from the club's various rivals. SAMCRO had made many enemies since its formation, after all.

Yet, it was none of these that caused Tig's head injury. No, it was something much simpler, much stupider that did it, if the rest of the club was being honest.

Chibs remembered the event clearly.

Tig had been changing a brake drum on a car and had gouged his forehead on a metal shaft sticking out from the wheel well. He jerked back in pain, only to bang his head against the fender.

It was the second injury that had done the most damage. Chibs was sure of it. Tig had hit himself hard enough to stun himself. He stood still for a second before his eyes rolled back. Then he collapsed to the ground.

Chibs had ran over and had called for help, and an ambulance had come, and that's why they were all at the hospital now, gathered around Tig's bed. The Sergeant at Arms was still unconscious. Chibs watched as Tara and another doctor flitted around the room.

"Can someone tell us what the hell is going on?" Clay asked, voicing the question on everyone's minds.

They'd been there for what felt like hours and Tig still had yet to wake up. They'd taken him for a CT scan and had done a few other diagnostic tests, but none of the doctors had said anything to the rest of the club directly.

Hearing the anger in Clay's voice, Tara immediately stopped pacing around and came over, the other doctor with her as well.

"I'm sorry, Clay. It seems like he sustained a moderately traumatic brain injury. It's likely that he'll wake up, though."

Clay stared at her. Despite the oxygen canula he was forced to wear, he still looked threatening.

"So he's gonna be okay?"

"He doesn't have a hemorrhage, nor is his brain swelling. There's no reason for him not to wake up. If he's lucky there might not be any long lasting effects."

Clay sighed.

"Alright." He looked at Juice, "You stay with him. We'll switch off every two hours 'til he wakes up. Chibs, you're up next, then I'll go then Bobby."

Everyone nodded or mumbled their agreement to the plan, and the club, minus Juice, all went on their way.

00

Not much happened while Juice was on watch. Tig snored a little bit and kind of twitched, but that was about it. Juice had called Tara back but she said that it wasn't anything out of the ordinary.

So he sat there, watching Tig and watching the television on the hospital room wall.

It was a long two hours. Then, exactly at seven, Chibs showed up.

The Scotsman took a seat next to his friend's best and turned the channels on the television. There's wasn't anything particularly good on, so he settled on watching a rousing game of Jeopardy.

Eventually, the combination of Alex Trebek's droning voice and Tig's occasional snoring lulled Chibs to sleep. He was having a fantastic dream about banging red-headed stripper twins when a sound pulled him back to the land of the living.

He cracked open his eyes to see that Tig was awake.

"Tig! You're awake!" Chibs said, happily. He moved closer to his friend. "How're ya feelin'?"

To Chib's surprise, Tig didn't answer immediately. Instead, his eyes grew extremely wide and he pushed himself back further on the bed. The man looked terrified.

"Tig? What's wrong?" Chibs was beginning to get concerned.

Tig slowly shook his head. After a few seconds, he finally spoke.

"Who are you and where am I?"


	2. Chapter 2

Ch. 2

Chibs was stunned.

"What do ya mean? Ya know who I am!"

Tig shook his head again.

"I don't even know who _I_ am. I can't know who _you_ are."

Chib's jaw dropped.

"Ya... Yer serious? Shit. Just... Just stay there. I'm gonna get the doctor."

Chibs quickly made his way out of the room and down the hall, then knocked on Tara's office door. He opened it to find her sitting at her desk.

"Hi, Chibs, what's going -"

"You've got to come back to Tigger's room! Somethin's wrong with him. He says he doesn't know who he is or who I am!"

Tara stood up.

"He's awake, then?"

"Aye. Come see for yerself!"

Tara nodded and followed Chibs back to Tig's room. Tig was still there, but he was standing up, going through the pile of his clothes that had been left on a chair. The doctors had dressed him in a hospital gown prior to the tests.

"Tig, you have to go back to bed," Tara said.

Her voice caught Tig's attention. At first Chibs thought that Tig was going to argue. He was surprised when the man quietly obeyed Tara's request. Tara seemed surprised as well but kept her thoughts to herself.

"Thank you," she told him, coming to his bedside.

Tig nodded, then winced at the pain that it caused.

"Does your head hurt?" Tara asked, going into doctor mode.

Tig just stared at her.

"Who are you?" He finally asked. "And who is he? And what am I doing here?"

Tara sat down on the edge of his bed.

"You're in a hospital. You hit your head very hard and it knocked you out. His name," she said, looking at Chibs, "Is Filip, but you call him Chibs. My name is Tara and I am a doctor here. Do you remember anything at all about today, or what happened?"

Tig slowly shook his head 'no'. He seemed nervous, now. Tara picked up on it quickly.

"No? That's... That's okay." She took his hand, trying to comfort him. "Your name is Alex Trager. Your friends call you Tig. You're safe here, okay? We'll figure everything out."

Tig looked Tara straight in the eyes, as if trying to tell if she was lying.

Tara forced a smile.

"Just relax. Here," She pulled a blanket up over her patient, then handed him the television remote. "I'll be back in a little bit."

"Okay," Tig agreed, watching as she walked out.

When she was gone he turned to Chibs.

"History channel okay with you?"

Chibs shrugged and sat back, unsure of what else to say or do.

00

Tara went back to her office and quickly made two phone calls. One was to the hospital's head neurologist. The other was to Gemma.

The neurologist, Doctor Tyler, had agreed to check Tig's medical records and test results immediately. Gemma was slightly harder to deal with. She was extremely concerned about her friend.

Tara managed to keep Gemma and the others from coming back to the hospital until the following morning. She wanted Dr. Tyler to give a diagnoses prior to exposing Tig to any other stress.

As promised, he did come by. He was halfway through looking over the results of the CT when Chibs came running to get Tara's attention.

"He's screamin' and yellin'!" Chibs explained, "Says he's in pain!"

Tara took a deep breath in attempt to keep calm and walked to Tig's room along with Doctor Tyler.

Everything was as Chibs had described. Tig was on the bed, curled in a fetal position and pressing his hand against the side of his head.

"Make it stop!" He yelled, "Please..."

Then he began to hyperventilate.

Dr. Tyler was quick to react.

"Alex, where does it hurt?"

"Side," Tig answered, through clenched teeth.

Dr. Tyler pried Tig's hand away from the side of his head.

"Here?" He asked, touching where he thought Tig had been putting pressure.

"Yes- Fuck, make it stop!"

"Okay. Dr. Knowles, we need to get him in for another CT scan. I'm going to prep the room. In the meantime get him some Dilaudid."

Tara nodded and went off to get a vial of the drug. She returned a moment later to find Tig in the same position, and Chibs looking on in horror.

"Okay, Tig, you need to calm down," She said, trying to remain calm herself. He was shaking and sweating and clearly in tremendous pain.

"I need you to calm down so I can give you a shot to make the pain stop," she said, trying her best to get him to lie flat on his back.

Thankfully, Chibs came to her aid, pushing Tig to where he was lying flat.

"Stay still," he said, holding Tig down.

Tara used the time to clean Tig's arm and inject him with the medicine. It was only a few seconds before it took effect. When it did, Tig began to relax.

"There we go," Tara whispered, "Just relax. It's going to be okay."

She glanced over at Chibs. Before she could try to explain anything the door opened and an orderly walked in.

"Dr. Knowles," he greeted Tara, "And this is our patient?"

"His name is Alex Trager and this is his friend Filip. Filip, this is Brendan. He's going to take Tig down for the CT scan. You can walk with him if you want."

Filip looked the young man over. He looked to be barely twenty years old. Despite his youth, the kid looked serious about his job.

"Hi," Brendan said, extending his hand. Chibs shook it, then turned his attention back to Tig.

"Looks like we're goin' for a ride Tiggy," he rested his hand on Tig's and watched as Tig looked up at him. Tig's eyes were glazed over. Whatever Tara had given him was definitely some good shit.

Brendan took that as his cue to get going. He popped up the rails on the side of Tig's bed and began to wheel him out of the room. Chibs and Tara followed Brendan down the hallway until they go to the room with the CT machine.

"We're here," Brendan told them.

Tara opened the door and Brendan brought Tig inside. Chibs tried to follow, but Tara pushed him away.

"Go back to the room. We'll bring him back up when this is done."

"Do ya think he's goin' to be alright?"

"I think so," Tara said truthfully. "We just have to do this test to make sure we didn't miss anything at all."


	3. Chapter 3

Ch. 3

Once again the CT scan came back clean. Brendan wheeled him back to the hospital room, where now Gemma, Juice, Bobby and Clay were waiting along with Chibs.

Tig, who was still fairly far gone due to the pain meds, did seem a bit surprised to see so many people there, but he kept quiet about it, preferring to stare up at the ceiling.

Tara, however, was not amused.

"I need to speak to you all out in the hall," she said.

The group quietly left the room.

"I understand that you're all concerned but Tig's memory is pretty shot. It could be a huge shock to him to suddenly see four other people near him."

"He didn't seem too shocked," Gemma replied.

"He's got a pretty huge dose of pain medication running through his veins. I'm surprised he's still awake."

Gemma wasn't happy with Tara's answer.

"So what, are we not supposed to try to help him?"

Tara sighed.

"You'll all get the chance to see him, but he needs some time to rest. He just experienced a very painful headache called a cluster headache. The pain meds help and we're going to give him some oxygen, but he's going to be tired when it's all over. I'd suggest keeping him here for another day, then we can see about you all meeting with him."

Juice considered this for a minute before speaking.

"Someone's gotta stay here to keep watch. After what happened with Pope... I'm sure he'll try to retaliate soon."

"You volunteering then?" Clay asked, looking at the young man.

Juice shrugged. "I have no problem with that. That okay with you, Tara?"

"I guess so. As long as it's only one of you at a time. I don't want to overwhelm him."

"Then it's settled," Gemma said, "Juice will stay here for the rest of the night. The rest of us can go get some sleep."

"Alright. I'll be in contact with you in the morning," Tara agreed.

00

Juice made his way into Tig's room while the others left the hospital. Tig was still staring at the ceiling, only now, one of the doctors or nurses had placed an oxygen cannula under his nose.

"Hey, Tig, how're you feeling?" Juice asked, sitting down next to him.

Tig was silent for a moment, then he spoke up.

"Good..." He answered, "How are you?"

Juice smiled. He wondered if Tig was beginning to remember his friends.

"I'm doing good. You hit yourself pretty hard you know."

"So I'm told."

Juice nodded, not sure what else to say. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Tig spoke up again.

"I'm sorry," he started. "I'm sure that I know you, but I don't remember your name right now."

Juice felt his heart sink. He tried to remind himself that this was only temporary, that everything would probably work out.

"Juice," he replied.

Tig wrinkled his nose.

"Your parents named you Juice?"

The Puerto Rican rolled his eyes.

"My real name is Juan Carlos but everyone calls me Juice, just like everyone calls you Tig."

"Oh."

There was another silence because Tig spoke up again.

"You said everyone else calls me Tig... who is everyone else?"

"The rest of the club. You're a member of a motorcycle club called the Sons of Anarchy."

"Wow. Really?"

"Mhmm."

"I want to ask more questions but I'm tired," Tig admitted.

"Just go to sleep. You need to rest. I'll be here for the night."

"Okay."

"Goodnight."

"Same to you."

It was only a few minutes before Tig was sound asleep, snoring once again. Juice fell asleep not long after.

00

Despite the nurses checking in on him every couple hours, Tig managed to get a decent amount of sleep. He woke up feeling somewhat better, though still tired. It was an odd feeling for him.

He didn't complain about it though. Really, he just wanted to get out of there. Being in the hospital made him nervous. He wasn't entirely sure why, it just did. He would rather take his chances outside.

Early in the morning an orderly came in and brought him some breakfast.

For hospital food, it seemed pretty decent. Scrambled eggs and a piece of toast and some fruit. So Juice was surprised when his friend picked up the paper napkin that he had been given, began tearing it up than eating it.

"Hey," Juice said, catching Tig's attention. "Why are you eating paper?"

Tig looked at him, then back at the pieces of paper, then slowly put another piece in his mouth.

"Stop that," Juice took the rest of the napkin in his left hand, then held his right hand out. "Give me the rest of it."

Tig glared at him, but handed it over.

"What's your problem?"

Juice threw the paper out then turned back to Tig, shaking his head.

"You just ate paper. That's not normal."

Tig stared at him, seemingly confused.

"Just... here," Juice handed him the piece of toast. "Eat that. I'll be back in a minute."

Juice walked into the hallway and took out his cellphone. He wasn't sure if Tara had arrived back at the hospital yet. He dialed her number and she picked up after a few rings.

"Hello? Hey, I'm just parking now. I'll be inside in a few minutes," Tara told him. "Is everything okay?"

"Tig tried to eat paper this morning."

"Paper? What do you mean?"

"He got breakfast and tried to eat the napkin. I took it away from him but he seemed confused."

"I see. Dr. Tyler should be on duty now. I'll catch him as soon as I can and bring him over. If Tig does anything else that seems strange make sure to let him know."

"Okay."

Tara could tell that Juice was nervous. Truth be told, she was too. Clearly Tig was having some problem with working through daily functions. It wasn't uncommon with people who had brain injuries, but it wasn't good either.

Still, she tried to keep it together. Hopefully Dr. Tyler would be able to help.

00

Dr. Tyler came in to Tig's room around 9am. He greeted both men and sat down next to Tig, then began looking over Tig's file.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, as she flipped through Tig's chart. The nurses had left notes scrawled throughout it.

"I'm fine," Tig replied, doing his best to sound believable. "Better than yesterday."

The doctor nodded.

"It looks like everything was in order last night. How does your head feel? Any residual pain?"

"Nope. Whatever you gave me did the trick."

"And... Can you remember anything?"

Tig couldn't help but frown.

"No," he answered, honestly.

"That's alright," the doctor tried to reassure him. "That's why I'm here. To help figure everything out. Now, this morning I'd like to do some tests. Is that okay with you?"

"Didn't I already do all the tests yesterday?" Tig was getting annoyed.

"These are different types of tests. You won't have to go anywhere." He picked up his briefcase and pulled one of the tables near the bed over.

"What's all this? Tig asked, watching as the doctor pulled out various objects. There were different colored blocks, all in different shapes.

"Can you count how many blocks are here?" The doctor questioned.

Tig stared at him like he had four heads, but complied.

"There's sixteen of them. What does this have to do with anything?"

"It's just a simple test is all. Now, there is one block that is different from all the others. Can you find it?" The doctor was referring to a yellow diamond shaped block. None of the others had a similar color or shape.

Tig studied the blocks for over a minute before sighing.

"They're all the same," he said, "There's no difference."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The doctor nodded and pulled the yellow block out.

"What about this one? Does that one seem different?"

"Oh. It does."

"How does it seem different?"

"It's yellow and has a different shape than the rest."

"Very good."

The test went on for quite a while, the doctor pulling out different things to perform different exams. With each one, Juice felt more and more uncomfortable. Something was definitely wrong. It was like some switch had been turned off in Tig's mind.

The doctor finally finished close to an hour after starting. He walked out of the room. Five minutes later, he returned with Tara.

"So, what's going on?" Juice asked.

Tig looked at both of the doctors curiously as well.

Dr. Tyler closed the door before speaking.

"The tests indicate that Alex is having difficulty making judgements insofar as making decisions go. For instance, he knows that he is hungry but when presented with food and a napkin he is unsure of what is edible. You saw that this morning."

Juice sighed, and Tig looked on, stunned at the doctor's conclusion. Then he began to get angry.

"Are you saying that I'm some type of retard or something?"

"No, no. Of course not. This isn't that uncommon in victims of head trauma. The good thing is that you are clearly capable of following directions when given to you and coming to correct conclusions when the obvious is pointed out. You understood that it was wrong to eat the napkin when your friend here told you not to, and you ate the toast instead because he told you to. You understood that the yellow block was a different color and shape once I pointed to it. Do you understand?"

"I'm not retarded," Tig repeated, glaring at the doctor.

Dr. Tyler sighed loudly.

"No one is saying that you are." He turned to face Juice. "Your friend will need supervision."

"Don't I get a say in this?" Tig nearly yelled.

"No, you don't. You can either stay here in the hospital and be tended to by the staff or you can stay with one of your friends or family members," the doctor snapped.

Seeing the rage in Tig's eyes, Tara stepped in.

"Guys, calm down. Tig, you'll only have to stay with someone until you recover or until you memorize what to do for the majority of typical tasks. I'm sure you'll be much happier with your friends than staying here."

Tig crossed his arms over his chest and mumbled something that sounded like an insult under his breath.

"So it's settled then," Dr. Tyler said, standing up. He looked at Tara. "I'll leave you to contact his family."

Tara nodded in agreement and opened the door for the neurologist to leave.


	4. Chapter 4

Ch. 4

After Dr. Tyler left, Tara went to contact the other Sons. She found everyone at the club house, gathered them all into one room and explained the situation at hand.

Everyone was stunned. Gemma took the news especially hard, while Jax seemed shocked that Tig had gotten injured so badly from something that didn't involve violence.

"So he has to stay with someone for a while," Tara said, after she finished talking about the medical aspects of Tig's condition.

The Sons looked around at each other, each silently trying to figure out who the best candidate would be.

"I vote that he stays with Chibs," Jax stated. "He's known Tig for a long time and he has a big enough arsenal at his house to fight off Pope's goons if he had to."

"Anyone else have any other ideas?" Tara asked.

"I think Chibs is the logical choice," Gemma answered. She looked at Chibs, "Only if he's okay with it, though."

"Yeah man, no pressure. We can figure out something else if we have to," Jax added.

Chibs sighed.

"He can stay with me. But if he needs any needles or anything, that's on someone else. I can't be doing that."

"He shouldn't need any injections. Dr. Tyler prescribed him some medicine to help with the headaches, but it's in pill form," Tara replied.

"Aye. Okay," Chibs answered, nodding his head. "I'll do my best."

Tara smiled, happy that the group had found a solution so quickly.

"I'm sure it'll be fine. And if it's not, we'll figure something else out. I promise."

00

Chibs went back to the hospital to get Tig while Gemma went to Tig's apartment to get some clothes and any other items that he might need.

She wasn't surprised to see that the Sergeant-at-Arm's living quarters were messy. There were clothes everywhere, dirty plates strewn on the kitchen counters and table and his bathroom looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a decade.

She moved about as carefully as she could, afraid to touch anything that looked too disgusting.

Eventually, she managed to gather a decent sized pile of jeans and t-shirts. She even found what she hoped was clean boxer shorts. She had to laugh when she saw that much of his underwear had little lucky shamrocks and hearts on them.

Gemma considered raiding the bathroom for toiletries but decided that she didn't want to risk getting any strange diseases from it. Chibs would have soap and shampoo and all that anyway.

Satisfied that she had gathered enough, she got back in her SUV.

00

Gemma pulled up to Chibs house a few seconds before Chibs showed up. She picked up the pile of clothes and walked over to the other car.

"Hi there," Gemma greeted Tig. "I'm Gemma."

Tig carefully checked Gemma out before grinning at her and introducing himself as well.

Gemma mentally rolled her eyes. At least some of Tig's normal traits were still there.

Chibs shook his head and opened the front door, then allowed Gemma and Tig to go inside first.

Thankfully, Chib's house was much more organized than Tig's apartment. It wasn't a huge place, but it was nice. There were two black leather couches in the living room and a big screen television. The kitchen was well kept, with a small table and stainless steel appliances.

"You can put his things in the bedroom," Chibs said, after Gemma had had a chance to look around.

"Where are you gonna sleep?" Tig asked. He was still in the living room, feeling too nervous to look around. It was weird being in someone else's home and being expected to stay there, especially since he had no memory of the guy who owned it.

"The couch is fine for me," Chibs answered. "Better for my back anyway." He sat down on the sofa and leaned back, trying to prove his point.

"I don't wanna take your bedroom."

"We can discuss this later." Chibs stood back up. "I need to talk to Gemma."

00

Gemma was putting Tig's clothes into piles on top of Chib's dresser when the Scottish man walked in.

"Hey."

"Hi, Gemma."

"How's it going?"

"He's in the living room. Seems a bit nervous."

"Oh. So... Do you think that you can handle this?"

"Aye. I think so. The nurses at the hospital already established the basic stuff, ya know... with the bathroom and all that."

"That's good. It'll make things less awkward at least. But you know if you ever need help you can call us."

Chibs nodded in agreement.

"I know."

Gemma finished organizing the clothes then turned to look at Chibs.

"You're going to let him stay in here?"

"It seems safer. There's no windows, Pope and his crew would have to get through me and back here to find him. That's what I wanted to speak to you about though. Should we tell him?"

"I don't know. He's got enough going on as it is, telling him about it might just make things worse."

"He's going to figure out that something's wrong if a bunch of blacks start shooting the place up," Chibs countered.

Gemma frowned.

"The doctor said he can't make decisions, right? But he can follow directions. We could tell him to stay away from black people. Tell him that you're in a bad neighborhood or something."

"Aye. That could work."

"Maybe we'll get lucky and for once there won't be any problems."

Chibs smirked.

"Wishful thinking, but we can hope, yeah?"

00

Miles away in Oakland, Damon Pope and August Marks were meeting in Pope's office.

"Our intel says that he's staying with Filip Telford on the north end of Charming," August explained.

"And this thing with his memory - do you think it's true?" Pope asked.

"From what we can tell it is. I had Darnell pay off one of the orderlies there, got a copy of Trager's medical charts." August dropped the paperwork on Pope's desk. "It's all there."

Pope nodded and pushed the paperwork away.

"I believe you."

"He's going to be protected. The club won't leave him alone in his condition."

"Obviously. I'll need you to make some phone calls," Pope scribbled a name and phone number on a piece of paper, and handed it over. "To these two men. Have them meet me here tomorrow morning, 10am. We'll discuss the situation again then."

August folded the piece of paper, placed it in his pocket and walked towards the door.

"Will do, boss. See you then."


	5. Chapter 5

Ch. 5

"Marla and Jason Hollis. It's been a long time. How is your father's business doing?" Pope asked, gesturing at the two young adults to sit down.

"It's going well," Jason answered. "Since Marco was... taken care of...We've made record profits. All thanks to you, of course."

Marla nodded in agreement.

"Yes, we are very grateful for all of your help."

"Of course," Pope replied, "It's always good to invest in small businesses. But now, I'd like to discuss a return on my investment."

"We can pay you back by the end of the month, if that would work for -"

Pope held up a hand to stop the young man from speaking.

"I'm not talking about money. I have more than enough to be more than comfortable. What I need from you is a favor. As you may have heard, my lovely daughter Veronica passed away recently."

Marla frowned.

"We heard. We sent you a card. It's a terrible loss - we're very sorry for you."

Pope nodded.

"Thanks. You see, the thing is, I found out who killed her. That's where you two come in."

Jason raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?"

Pope reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a photo.

"This man is Alex Trager. He goes by the nickname 'Tig'. He's currently living on Marigold Drive in Charming. You're both from that town, aren't you?"

"We are," Marla answered.

"The police will never arrest Mr. Trager for what he's done, so I have to take things into my own hands. Unfortunately, Mr. Trager and his friends are very unlikely to trust a black men like most of my associates. What I need is for you to gain his trust. As young white people, he will be unlikely to suspect you. You won't have to get your hands dirty, either. All I need is for you to lure him away from his home."

"How are we going to do that? We live in Oakland now."

"There is an apartment in a two family house down the block from where Mr. Trager lives. I will rent it and you will live there and get to know him as neighbors. I'm sure that your father can run the store for a few weeks, right?"

"Yeah...I think so..." James replied.

"Good. Now, Mr. Marks will provide you with the money that you'll need and some details."

"Alright," James agreed. He looked at his sister, then back at Pope. "We'll do whatever it takes."

00

While August discussed Tig's apparent like of dogs and the Son's background, Chibs was at home with Tig, trying to keep calm.

The past eighteen hours had been awful. Chibs couldn't think of any other way to describe it.

The previous evening, several things had happened. Tig had gone to take a shower and Chibs had forgotten to show him how the faucet worked. Of course, Tig had managed to make the water scalding hot. Chibs had heard him scream and had run in only to see Tig still standing there, under the water, letting it burn him.

Thankfully Chibs had reacted quickly, turning off the water and getting Tig out of the shower. Tig's skin was pretty red, though, so Chibs had to call Tara to come over and examine him. The whole thing was awkward and Chibs sincerely felt bad for forgetting to show Tig the ropes.

After Tara had applied some burn cream to some of the worse areas of Tig's body, Chibs had decided that maybe it would be best for both of them to just relax.

He gave Tig a bath robe to wear and led him into the living room where they watched Cartoon Network. Chibs got up to make something to eat and had given Tig instructions not to touch the remote.

When he came back the television screen was gray and fuzzy and the cable box was on some setting that Chibs had never seen before.

"What'd ya do?" Chibs asked. "I told ya not to touch the remote!"

Tig stared at him, seemingly annoyed at Chib's tone.

"You said not to touch the small black remote. You didn't say anything about the other two remotes."

Tig was right. Chibs hadn't mentioned the other two remotes. But he hadn't done so because both of them were on a shelf near the cable box and he didn't think that Tig would take them.

So, Chibs grit his teeth and started on fixing the television. It took two hours, but he eventually got it done.

By that time, Tig was tired. Chibs didn't show it, but he was happy when Tig decided to go to bed. Maybe he would get a few hours of peace and quiet. Chibs followed him to the bedroom, got him some water and told him to call if he needed anything, though he silently hoped that Tig wouldn't.

Things had gone well for the first few hours. Chibs sat back and had a few beers and watched television. Then around one in the morning, he heard Tig groaning while intermittently cursing.

Sighing, Chibs got up to investigate. He found that Tig was having a migraine. He got Tig's medicine and tried to get him to take it, but the man refused, preferring to writhe in agony instead. Over time the pain had gotten worse and other symptoms appeared: nausea and hot flashes and cold sweats. Chibs was there for all of it. He rubbed Tig's back when he had started throwing up, and he'd gotten ice packs when he felt too hot. Tired as he was, he felt bad leaving Tig alone.

Finally, Tig relented around dawn. He let Chibs put the pills in his mouth and he swallowed them down and promptly fell asleep.

And so there they were. Tig knocked out cold and Chibs half asleep.

The Scotsman woke up around 9. He made himself some coffee and said a quiet prayer that the day would go better.

Right then, as if on cue, there was the sound of something hitting the wall.

"Ugh..." Chibs groaned, wondering what it was. He waited a few seconds, hoping whatever it was was a one time thing, but then he heard it again, followed by cursing.

Taking a deep breath, Chibs stood up. He forced himself to walk to the bedroom, then opened the door to find several sets of clothes scattered on the floor.

"What the hell are ya doing?!" Chibs demanded. "Why are ya throwing my shit around?!"

Tig glared at him, "_You're_ upset?! None of this shit fits! What the hell?! What am I supposed to wear?"

Chibs groaned again. He'd forgotten to tell Tig that Gemma had put his clothes in a pile on the end of the dresser. None of the clothing fit because Tig had been trying on all of Chib's stuff.

Calmly as he could, he showed Tig where his jeans and shirts were, then walked out. He'd have to ask Tara for some of that Xanex shit the next time he saw her. Obviously this was going to be harder than he'd thought.


End file.
